


Hope's Friends

by Mozart_the_Meerkitten



Series: Hope will (Estel and Maglor stories) [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fellowship of the Ring, Fluff, Funny, Gen, Maglor meets the hobbits, Sort Of, it could technically have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozart_the_Meerkitten/pseuds/Mozart_the_Meerkitten
Summary: Aragorn worries about the well being of the hobbits after the events of Weathertop. So, while in Rivendell, he enlists the help of an old friend to cheer them up.
Series: Hope will (Estel and Maglor stories) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583329
Comments: 14
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah y'all deserve some fluff, so here, have Maglor meeting the hobbits. Well, three of them for the moment. I'm planning to write a second part to this where he meets Frodo properly.
> 
> Also I forgot last time, but I drew pictures to go along with these stories! Follow this link to see them: https://mozart-the-meerkitten.tumblr.com/post/190171794277/you-are-my-sunshine-my-only-sunshine-you-make

Maglor was sitting high in the branches of his tree, leaning against the trunk, enjoying the way the autumn wind ruffled his hair. It was because of this that he caught sight of a figure moving through the trees towards his home, and his keen eyes soon discerned who it was. His heart leapt, and a smile crept onto his face as he watched his boy approach.

He really ought to stop thinking of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor, as a “boy”. Maglor was fairly certain that his little boy, Estel, was now somewhere in his eighties, and after all the curses the Valar had laid on his people he still praised them for giving the Dunedain lives longer than that of ordinary men.

“Good afternoon, Estel!” called the elf as he swung deftly down the branches of his tree to land before the man.  
Estel grinned at him. “Hello, Kano.”  
Almost immediately the boy pulled him into a hug, and Maglor returned it happily. One thing about Estel had never changed; he gave the best hugs in all Arda.

“So what brings you home from your journeys?” asked Maglor, pulling back to look his boy over.  
“That is what I have come to speak with you about, Kano,” said Estel. “I’ve just gotten back from a very dangerous adventure, and I was hoping to get your help with something.”  
Maglor frowned. “Dangerous?”  
Estel nodded, looking more serious. “The most dangerous venture I have ever undertaken, and it does not seem like it will be getting any less dangerous from here on out. But come, you will learn plenty of that later. Do you remember the company of dwarves who traveled through Rivendell when I was a boy?”  
Maglor blinked. “Well yes. You were deeply fascinated by them, and I had to tell you all the stories I knew of dwarves for weeks after. Why?”  
“Do you remember the halfling who was with them?”  
Maglor thought for a moment, then nodded. “I believe so.”  
“Well, he is now here and living in Rivendell, and I have just finished escorting his nephew and friends through the wild.”  
“That is… unusual,” said Maglor. “Halflings wandering the wild?”  
“Not wandering, exactly, they were on a quest,” explained Estel.

Maglor huffed. “Estel, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to guess, because I am not going to stand here and listen to you dance around the topic all day.”  
Estel sighed and shook his head. “Alright, alright. One of the hobbits- the nephew of the one who visited when I was a child- is currently in possession of the One Ring.”

Maglor froze, staring at Estel with his mouth hanging slightly ajar. _"He has what?!?"_  
“The One Ring,” repeated Estel. “And it’s a long and complicated tale to tell how he came to have it. Suffice it to say that he inherited it from his uncle, who found it on his journeys.”  
“Are you saying that halflings have had possession of the Enemy’s Ring for over half a century?!?” said Maglor, his voice rising in pitch and intensity.  
Estel took a deep breath. “Yes.”  
“And we knew nothing of it?!?”  
“Yes.”  
“By Eru,” Maglor raised his face to the sky and shook his head. “What is it you want me to do then? You should know, Estel, that I will not be a part of any more quests involving cursed objects, whichever Enemy they belong to.”  
Estel held up his hands placatingly. “And I wouldn’t ask you to be. All I want you to do is come into Rivendell and try to lift the spirits of the young hobbits there.”

Maglor blinked. “You want me to… Estel, you know I never go there these days.”  
“I know, and I know you have good reason for not going. But Kano… the Ringbearer, Frodo, was pierced with a Morgul Blade. Elrond has him on the mend, but the others are a bit despondent, and more than a bit weary and frightened from their adventures. I know of no one better at telling tales to lift the hearts of the sorrowful and lonely than you, Kano, nor anyone better at relating to the troubles of little folk, whether they be human or halfling.”

Maglor sighed, and didn’t speak for several moments. Finally, he looked up and shook his head. “You are a clever, crafty child, Estel. I’ll get my cloak.”  
Estel grinned. “Thank you, Kano.”

*******************************************************

Maglor followed Estel cautiously through the streets of Rivendell, his hood drawn up and his hands clenched tightly around his harp. He felt as though every eye was turned on him, watching and judging him silently. He longed to run back to the woods and hide himself.

But he could not do that. Estel had asked him for help and he could not refuse his boy asking for help.

Estel led him up to what Maglor was fairly certain were the guest houses. There, sitting on a bench under a verandah were two little figures, small as children, talking quietly to each other. They had curly hair on their heads and feet, and their clothes were brighter than their countenance. As he and Estel approached, they looked up.

“Hello there, Strider,” said one. “Any news of Frodo?”  
“None that is any different from the last report you had,” said Estel. “He sleeps and heals.”  
“Who’s your friend?” asked the other hobbit, who Maglor thought sounded a little younger than the first.”  
Estel smiled. “This is my oldest friend, Kano. I met him when I was a child here in Rivendell. I thought you might like to meet him, he sings songs and tells tales far better than I do. Kano, this is Merry and Pippin, two of the halflings I told you of.”

Maglor brushed his hood back and did his best to smile. “Hello. I’m afraid Estel here may exaggerate my talents, but I can keep you company if you wish.”  
Before Estel could undoubtably try and insist that Maglor was the finest singer and tale-teller in all the land, Pippin spoke up.  
“What do you call him Estel for? I thought his name was Strider, or, um,”  
“Aragorn,” whispered Merry.  
“Right!” Pippin nodded.  
Maglor smiled more genuinely this time. “Estel was his name when I met him as a child, and therefore it is still the name I call him by,” he sat down in front of the hobbit’s bench. “You will find that he has many names throughout Middle Earth.”  
“Do you mean like titles, or nicknames?” asked Pippin.  
Maglor’s smile widened and he cast a glance over at Estel, who had settled himself down leaning against a nearby pillar. “Both.”  
“Well, I suppose that makes sense,” said Pippin finally. “I mean, Merry and Pippin are only our nicknames anyway. Really our names are Meriadoc and Peregrin, but nobody calls us that.”  
“Those are long names for small people,” said Maglor, as seriously as he could.  
“That’s why we had to shorten them,” agreed Merry. “It took too long for everyone to shout when we got into trouble.”  
Maglor laughed. “I understand that. All of my brothers had nicknames for similar reasons- though mother would still yell our full names when she was really angry. Father, on the other hand, would run through all seven of us till he got to the right one.”  
“Seven! I thought elves didn’t have many children,” said Pippin. Merry elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow! What?”  
Maglor chuckled. “Most don’t. My parents were a little mad to have all of us, I think, especially seeing as we were all boys.”  
“You must have gone on lots of adventures with them then,” said Pippin.  
Maglor’s smile faded. “Yes, yes I did,” he shook his head. “Back in the age of the Two Trees, we had many lovely adventures.”  
Merry frowned. “The Two Trees? What does that mean?”  
“Oh, the age of the Two Trees was the age that preceded that of the rising of the Moon and Sun,” said Maglor. “It was way back in the First Age-”  
“Hang on, you said it came before the rising of the sun and moon?” said Merry, staring at him incredulously.  
“Oh, yes, sorry, I forget that most of those outside of Imlardis no longer know much about the First Age,” said Maglor. “The Two Trees gave light to Arda- that is, Middle Earth- before the Sun and Moon. Each tree would be alight for six hours, and fade while the other blazed to life. They were named Telperion and Laurelin. These shown for many long years before they were destroyed by the Dark Lord Morgoth who-”  
“Wait a moment,” Merry interrupted again. “That’s not the Dark Lord’s name. Not unless he’s got more than one as well.”  
“Well, yes he does, but Sauron is the second and lesser of the Dark Lords who have tried to rule over Middle Earth,” explained Maglor. “Sauron’s master was Morgoth, a horrifying and evil being who nearly destroyed elves and men and all free peoples in the First Age.”  
“Wait, there was a Dark Lord worse than the one who made the Ring Frodo’s got?!” squeaked Pippin.  
Maglor nodded. “Yes. He destroyed the Two Trees and did many other horrible things. Now, from the Trees were saved one single fruit from Laurelin, and one single flower from Telperion. These became the Sun and Moon. And the rising of the Moon was magnificent, and the rising of the Sun brought such hope. I still remember-”  
“You were alive before the Sun?!?” gaped Merry.  
“Yes. And the Moon. The Moon is the elder of the two-”  
“How old are you?!” asked Pippin, eyes wide.  
Maglor heard Estel snort, and he grinned. “Very, very old.”  
“But you can’t be older than the sun!” insisted Merry. “That can’t be possible. He’s trying to fool us, isn’t he, Strider?”

Estel, who appeared to be trying very hard not to start laughing hysterically, finally managed to take a breath and reply. “He is absolutely telling the truth, Master Merry. If you don’t believe us, ask Elrond.”  
“Is he older than the sun too?!” asked Pippin.  
“No, Elrond is considerably younger than the Sun,” said Maglor. And then he added, “But I am pretty sure he’s older than some of the mountains.”

*****************************************************************

Maglor had regaled Merry and Pippin with his tales and songs and (to them) unbelievable facts until dinner, when both hobbits had excused themselves and trotted off, chatting far more cheerfully than they had been earlier. Maglor smiled as he watched them go, and looked over at Estel.

“Alright, I’ll admit it, I missed having curious young minds pester me with questions for hours on end.”  
Estel chuckled. “I knew you did,” he stood and stretched. “Have you still the energy for one more visit?”  
Maglor stood as well. “Well I haven’t anything better to do.”  
Estel nodded, a strange smile on his face. “Come on then.”

Estel led him into the houses of the healers, where the sick and wounded were tended. Maglor had visited these more than any other place in Rivendell between Estel’s various scrapes and maladies growing up, and his own recovery when Elrond first found him. As a result, he was slightly more comfortable here and felt less need to hide himself. Many of the healers knew him and they had never shown him any ire or accused him of anything.

“Wait here a moment,” said Estel when they stopped outside one of the rooms. He opened the door and walked in and Maglor could hear him speaking quietly to someone in elvish. Then a healer walked out- giving him a little smile as she went by- and Estel poked his head back out.

“Alright, come in,” said his boy.  
Maglor slipped in quietly and regarded the small room. It was white, with symbols of healing carved into the walls. On the far side the windows hung slightly open, letting in sunlight a gentle breeze. In the center of the room was a bed where a little hobbit with dark curly hair was curled up asleep. Beside him sat another hobbit, so attentive to the first that he didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Good evening, Sam,” said Estel quietly.  
The hobbit looked up quickly, blinking at them. “Oh, hello Strider, sorry, I guess I was just lost in thought was all.”  
“That’s alright,” said Estel. “I trust you are satisfied with the care your master has received?”  
“Oh, yes sir, of course,” said Sam, nodding. “Everyone’s been very good to us here, but I expected no less from the elves, of course,” his eyes turned to Maglor. “Which brings me to ask who your friend is, Strider.”  
“This is Kano, my very oldest friend,” said Estel. “He is a great singer and teller of tales, and with you so fascinated by the elves I thought you might enjoy talking to him.”  
“How do you do, Mr. Kano?” said Sam, nodding.  
Maglor blinked. He had been caught in a very old memory of another time he had found himself in a healing room looking at two very dear friends…  
“I am well, thank you,” he said, quietly pulling over a chair. “So you wish to know about the elves, do you?”  
Sam’s face lit up. “Oh yes sir, Mr. Kano. It’s one of the reasons I was so eager to come here with Mr. Frodo.”  
Maglor smiled. He was finding it impossible to dislike any of the hobbits, and this one in particular…  
“Well then, tales you shall hear. Is there anything in particular you would like to hear?” he asked.  
“Well, sir, if you don’t mind, on our way here Strider told us a bit of the Tale of, oh, what was that name? Tinuviel, that was it! He said that only Elrond could really tell it aright, but I would love to hear more of it if it wasn’t any trouble.”  
Maglor raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Estel. “Oh. He said only Elrond could tell it properly did he?”  
Estel sighed. “I should have known saying that would cause me trouble. You’re always so secretive, Kano, I didn’t want to draw any attention to you that I didn’t have to.”  
“So instead you’ve decided to erase my existence entirely. I see,” he shook his head, giving Estel a look of mock-severity.  
Estel rolled his eyes. “Well look at all the trouble that came from the last time someone stumbled upon you in the woods. I didn’t want to cause a repeat of that by sending a group of hobbits searching for you.”  
Maglor opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Sam.  
“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Strider, Mr. Kano, I didn’t mean to cause no trouble. I’m always going around putting my foot in my mouth, aren’t I?” said the little hobbit, covering his face with his hands.

Maglor turned back and gently took Sam’s hands. “Dear little one, you have not caused any trouble. Forgive us, old friends often forget that others may misinterpret their antics,” he tilted his head down and gave Sam a small smile. “Now, as for your request I would be more than happy to give you the Tale of Tinuviel in full, but you must know that if Elrond knows the story aright it is because I taught it to him, long ago.”  
Sam looked up at him in surprise. “You taught Master Elrond?”  
Maglor grinned, eyes sparkling. “Oh yes. Once great, wise old Master Elrond was nothing more than a curious little boy, and I taught him much when he was in my care.”  
“Forgive me for saying so, Mr. Kano, but that must make you very old,” said Sam.  
Maglor laughed. “Indeed I am, Sam! You will have to ask your friends Merry and Pippin how old I am, for I have already impressed that upon them. Now, come, the tale you have asked for is a long one, in truth it may take more than one night to tell, but I will begin it now.”  
He pulled out his harp and began to sing, quietly and clearly, and Sam listened with attention as rapt as Estel’s had been as a child until the night was full upon them. Then the little hobbit’s head began to droop, and before long he was asleep. Maglor set aside his harp and gently picked him up, walking around to lay him down on the empty part of Frodo’s bed. He pulled the blankets up around the pair, and softly ran his hand through Sam’s curly hair, a sad, wistful smile on his face.

Estel came up and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Kano, it’s time we were in bed as well.”  
Maglor bowed his head. “Thank you for bringing me here, Estel.”  
Estel gently steered him towards the door. “Thank _you_ , Kano. You have lifted the darkness here.”  
A warm feeling grew in Maglor’s heart, and he shut his eyes, still smiling. 

_‘For darkness will not last forever, and in the face of Hope, what can it do but flee?’_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While contemplating the challenges of his quest, Frodo Baggins meets a strange elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's the second part of this. It's a little more serious than the first, and it gets a little feelsy, but it's still mostly fluff.
> 
> Also! I realized that I forgot to put the little ` symbol above Maglor's name in the last chapter, which I will fix at some point.

Frodo leaned against the balcony railing, breathing in the cool night air, desperately trying to clear his head and not succeeding in the least.

What in the world was he doing?! Taking the Ring to Rivendell was one thing, but agreeing to take it all the way to Mordor? He barely knew where Mordor was! And yes, Gandalf and Strider and Sam had promised to come with him, but he was the Ringbearer, it was his quest, his responsibility and how in the world was he supposed to do this?!

He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his fingernails into his palms, trying to stem the flood of thoughts and feelings that threatened to drown him.

_‘It will never work, it will never work, it will never work,’_ chanted a voice in his head. _‘It will never-”_

“Are you alright?”

Frodo jumped, twirling around as he did so. His eyes darted around, and after a moment they landed on a dark haired elf in the corner who was watching him with concern, a book still open in his hands.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the elf, setting his book aside. “It’s rather a novelty to me, since I’m usually the one being startled.”

Frodo blinked. “I-I’m alright,” he said, finally.  
The elf nodded. “You must be Frodo, the halfling that has all Imlardis stirred up like a hive of angry bees.”  
Frodo nodded hesitantly. “Sorry about that.”  
The elf shrugged. “It’s no problem, I’m not even usually here,” his eyes sparkled a little. “Actually, it’s rather entertaining to see them all so worked up. I just wish it wasn’t over something so dangerous.”  
“Er, yes, um, so what was your name again?” asked Frodo, feeling incredibly confused by this elf’s manner.  
“Oh, yes, right, I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” said the elf, shaking his head. “You can call me Káno. I’m a friend of, oh, Strider, that’s what he’s been having you call him, isn’t it?”  
Frodo tilted his head. “You’re a friend of Aragorn?”  
Káno nodded, smiling a little. “Yes. But I met him when he was still just a little boy, and then he was called Estel so I have called him that ever since. I’m not particularly good with keeping up with what people are calling him in the outside world.”  
“I… see,” said Frodo.

“So what was it you were thinking about, if you don’t mind my asking?” said Káno. “You looked to be very deep in thought.”  
“Oh, well, I just,” Frodo looked down. “I’m wondering if I was right to take on this quest. I’m only a hobbit, after all, and though I don’t entirely understand everything I’ll have to do, I know that this will be a very dangerous venture, and that I might not-” he stopped, swallowing hard.  
Káno’s eyes softened, and he walked over to kneel in front of Frodo, gazing solemnly into his eyes.   
“You have a strong heart, and a strong mind,” said the elf. “That is a potent combination for anyone to have, but I also think… you and your friends are pure of heart. You will not be easily swayed by the Enemy, and your quest will not easily be stopped by his dark devices. The Great Ones honor a quest undertaken with pure motives, just as they curse those that only wish to serve themselves. And your foe is not invincible, he has been defeated before by those whom he underestimated and believed insignificant.”  
Káno gently laid his hands on the hobbit’s shoulders. “And he will be defeated again, Frodo, and this time forever.”  
“How do you know?” asked Frodo.

Káno smiled sadly. “Because I have hope. I cannot have lived through such darkness and pain only to see the world fall into ruin. And it seems fitting this time that the darkness be defeated not in battle by great warriors, but by the courage of little, forgotten folk.”

“You speak of many things I do not understand,” said Frodo, frowning a little.  
Káno’s hands slipped away and he ducked his head. “I’m sorry, you must be tired of people speaking in riddles.”  
“Not really, I grew up listening to riddles, and I’m rather fond of them,” said Frodo. Káno looked up at him strangely. “But I would like to know who you are that you have such wisdom to give.”

Káno froze. He leaned back a little and turned away. “You do not want to know that,” he said quickly. “You would only be disgusted that you gave any heed to what I have said.”  
Frodo frowned. “Why is that?”  
Káno shook his head. “In truth you may not even know who I am, but I don’t, I can’t… I don’t want hopelessness to return to you because of who I am.”  
“It won’t,” said Frodo, becoming more and more confused by the second. “Whoever you are, your words have power to lift the spirit.”

Káno said nothing, so Frodo knelt down as well and peered up at the elf’s downcast face. “Please?”  
Káno snorted, covering his mouth with his hand, and turned away quickly, but Frodo could tell he was hiding a smile.

When the elf finally looked back to him though he was serious again. “Alright,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But please know that I would never try to sway you towards evil, or give you false counsel, I only wished to help.”  
Frodo nodded, his curiosity mounting. “I understand.”

There was a long pause before Káno spoke again. When he finally did, his speech was quiet and halting, as if it were being dragged out of him against his will.

“The name you would know me by is Maglor, son of Feanor, the smith who created the Silmarils in the First Age. I am better known now as a kinslayer and an oath breaker, cursed by the Valar themselves.”

Frodo stared at him. “Oh. Well, alright then, I’m, I’m sorry to hear that. Um…”  
Maglor finally looked at him properly. “Do you… do you still not know who I am?”  
“Oh, no, I know who you are, I’ve been enjoying hearing about the history of Middle Earth while I’m here, I just…” he trailed off with a shrug.  
Maglor frowned. “You don’t seem very concerned.”  
“Well, I mean, you said you were a friend of Strider,” said Frodo. “And Lord Elrond must know you’re here, I mean, you seem too calm to have snuck in, I should know, I’ve snuck into many places- so if they’ve approved you being here, then, well,” he shrugged again. “I guess I’m not too concerned about what you did millennia before the Shire was even created.”

Maglor blinked rapidly. “Oh.”

Frodo had been puzzling over something for a while now and it suddenly came clear. “Káno! That’s it, you’re the one who Merry and Pippin and Sam were telling me about.”  
“They were telling you about me?” asked Maglor, still looking perplexed.  
Frodo nodded. “They said you told excellent stories.”  
“That is what most people say,” said Maglor.  
“You will have to tell us some more before we set off,” said Frodo. “And perhaps Bilbo, I’m sure he would enjoy learning about the First Age. Have you ever met my uncle Bilbo?”  
“Once, but it was long ago and I doubt he would remember me,” said Maglor.  
“Really? Huh, you’ll have to tell me that story sometime,” said Frodo.

Maglor slowly seemed to be getting comfortable with the conversation again. “It isn’t a long tale. Estel once dragged me up out of the forest to see the company of dwarves that was traveling through Imlardis, and I happened to meet him then.”  
“On his adventure?” said Frodo, grinning. “Oh, you should remind him of that. If he knew you had any part in it, he’d probably let you read his whole book as it stands so far.”

Maglor smiled. “I think I would enjoy that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maglor is beginning to wonder why he never visited the Shire while wandering up and down the coast. He will probably encounter the hobbits again in these stories. Probably.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, honestly, the idea for this story came because I thought it would be hilarious to have Maglor telling Merry and Pippin random insane First Age facts that are 100% true. By the end of their encounter Merry and Pippin have no idea what's even real about the history of their world anymore and will also believe literally anything Maglor tells them. He could say that the sky was green and the grass was blue in the First Age and they would believe him. He (mostly) does not abuse this power.


End file.
